


Fate/Unlimited

by theunderwolf6



Category: Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Route: Unlimited Blade Works, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-13 18:09:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12989637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theunderwolf6/pseuds/theunderwolf6
Summary: The fifth Holy Grail War slips away as the border between dimensions fades. Servants are summoned from every conceivable place to every conceivable master. The first Unlimited Holy Grail War begins as the universe begins to end.





	Fate/Unlimited

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is something I wrote to try and lighten some writers block and I thought I'd throw it to the world! Anyway this here's a Massively Multiplayer Crossover re-imagining of the fate series, with a lot of fandoms mixed in. SO SPOILERS ALL. I'll try to tag the series I'll ruin as they come up but be wary!

Fate/Unlimited I:

The Fifth gives way to the first & The summoning of servants

“I’m sorry professor but what are you saying?” Harry Potter asked throwing his arms out in exasperation.

“I was confused as well Mr. Potter, when it was brought to my attention,” Professor, no, now headmaster McGonagall sat in her large chair, fingers folding over each other nervously, “but the mysteries are not wrong. The Holy Grail war, as strange as it may sound, is very real.”

“And we can trust this source? In the clocktower of all places?” Harry asked, still a bit dumbfounded.

“More like they are the only ones who seem to know what it is… my informant said that its founder was one of the three behind starting the whole thing.”

“This contact though, who is he? He says it’s a secretive affair but how does he know so much?”

“Naturally that was my first question to Mr.Potter, Apparently he fought in the last one. The Fourth Holy grail war.”

“So.” Harry said dryly, “Let me get this straight: Apparently under the noses of the entire wizarding world a organization of ‘mages’ based not a few blocks away from the ministry has organized at least five of these wars in Japan, the last of which caused a natural disaster, and we knew nothing about it?”

“It seems so,” McGonagall said smoothly, obviously as miffed as he was.

“And now that we’ve found out they’ve extended an invitation to us… to join this war of theirs and we’ve accepted?!” Harry was near to shouting now.

“The minister decided that we could become a stabilizing influence on this ‘war’ Sending the finest auror the ministry has, not to win, but to prevent any needless bloodshed, Is our best option.”

Harry considered this for a moment. He didn’t want to wade into another war but the Headmaster was right. Anything he could do to prevent this dark ritual from succeeding he would do gladly. “So I need to,” He began, both of them knew it was a foregone conclusion that he’d help, “Summon one of these servants right? Heroic spirits chosen by the grail?”

“Yes of course,” McGonagall said smoothly sliding a book across her desk to him, “This book contains the ritual to do so and before you go I have one more thing for you.” She stood and went behind her chair. “To summon a servant, the book says, You need a catalyst. Something related to their legend in life. And I can think of no better servant to answer your call.” She handed him a package, and without even seeing it, just by the weight and power, Harry knew what it contained. The sword of Gryffindor.

“Professor,” he said, “Are you sure?”

“I am. Mr.Potter take it with the schools blessing, and use it to save those you can.” Harry left the office with only one thought in mind. How was he going to explain this to Ginny? 

* * *

 

“...Chise,” Elias spoke and she shook herself back into focus, “Are you paying attention? This is very important.” She looked at her hand and nodded. The command seals were there, in the same red as her hair. “I can help you as much as I can,” Elias said careingly.

She nodded, trusting her master without question.

“But,” He continued, “But the summoning and much of the danger...you must face yourself.”

She nodded, “I can do it Elias.”

“Please, don’t over exert yourself, you have much ahead of you. I don’t know why these were given to you,” Elias said softly stroking the command seals on her hand, “But the Grail must have some greater purpose in this.”

“I promise I won't,” She said, with a smile. But unlike her master, she knew why they had been given to her. She had a wish. One she had held since she fully embraced her future as a magus. Her command seals ready, her spells memorized, she went to summon her servant. 

* * *

 

“How's it coming Boss?”

“Shut up Bob,” Harry Dresden said as he carved the circle into the floor. He already had a circle for summoning, but this one was, far more complicated than the simple one he had to bind fae and demons. Servants, grails and masters. All of it was new to him. It scared him sure, but he was a wizard and the curiosity of it, the new magic he was exploring, fascinated him. It was magic from another world, and just the idea of the possibilities it held… Excited him to no end. He looked idly at his lab table, and the pile of notebooks filled with things angrily scratched out. Formulas tried and failed. If anything could hold the answer to what he sought, the cure for vampirism, the grail would have it. He was sure. Or at the very least, he was desperate. He had turned away from trying as hard lately. The Vampire war was raging and he had an apprentice to think of. But the news of a so called “Holy Grail War” was all the excuse he needed. There was too much at stake. The war, deeper knowledge of magic and… Susan. A cure. He would do it. He didn’t need to kill the other masters, just familiers if he was careful, and judging from his research, it was decently likely the other masters were the type to need putting down anyway. He could do this. But still, something nagged at his mind. Little Chicago hadn’t been working for a while, and there were other things that seemed odd about the flow of magic. Leylines had… changed. Not moved. Not altered in power… but changed. Other things seemed off. Even this ritual, it was weird to him. It didn’t follow any of the rules of magic as he was familiar with them. The basic concepts followed but it was too specific. It conjured names he’d never heard, when the rules of magic insisted on exact knowledge, to protect the mind. But everything, according to Bob at least, would work and he trusted Bob. He nodded and leaned back. The circle was done and the ritual was near ready. All he needed now was some blood. He stood and stretched. He knew a butcher that didn’t ask questions about the weird guy. It helped that Dresden had found about a hundred different small things for the man. Dresden on the other hand found the trade of divination for blood quite the helpful deal. So he left the circle alone, to go see his friend. And with Bob asleep, Mister roving around, and Mouse at his friend's side (Butchers had sausages after all) None were around to see the small shard of an ancient blade that fell into the center of the circle.

* * *

 

“What is this?” Neku demanded. He had won their game. He and Shiki had beaten the odds and crushed the overseer, stupid food punning bastard that he was. Now Shiki had left, coming back to life, the reward they were promised. Now it was just him facing the reapers.

“We have one more game for you.” The voice said. “No price. No reapers. No Challenges.”

“Then what the hell do you want from me?"

“Another objective has appeared in the underground, or more accurately in the world above us.” The voice continued, “The Holy Grail. Claim it, and we release you.”

“The WHAT?!” Neku yelled. “Your partner will tell you more.”

“My Who!?” Neku yelled back, but they were gone. He was awake and back in the scramble. 

* * *

 

“Doctor,” The baron spoke from a deep bow, speaking in a thick accent of his native east european country, “The circle is prepared for you, but are you sure this is wise?”

“You question my wisdom?”

“No of course not Doctor I just…” The man in the throne looked down on the baron. He did not expect to see broken pride, an insult to his “Master's” Skill as a mage was inconsequential after all. The Baron knew his skill with magic was remedial at best, and he was a pragmatic man, one who had no trouble debasing himself to accomplish his goals.

The baron continued though. “Through my research I have found none, not even those from the first four wars ever dared to summon a second servant.”

“Then I shall be the first.” The man on the throne rumbled and stood, “I do not fear these rules, Baron. Not only am I above them, but they have become utterly irrelevant. The fact that we have already confirmed at least eight other servants should be evidence enough.” His green cloak swept backwards as he walked, and the debasing baron looked up to see only the barest glance of the dull metal mask he wore.

“Your organization prides itself on how many tentacles it reaches out after all,” The Doctor chuckled, “What’s one more?” He laughed, a deep metallic sound that shook the Baron Zemo's bones. 

* * *

 

The Scar-faced man sighed, overseeing his handiwork. The alchemist was dead, ripped to shreds by the man’s right arm. He had been standing in a huge alchemic circle painted from a different kind of blood. The Scar faced man sighed, he felt...fuzzy. He knew who he was, but things flickered. A homeland and religion that he desperately wanted to protect.

But its name… was it Ishval or?

No he knew it was Ishval. And he would revenge it's fall. This dead alchemist, or “Magus” as he called himself, was merely the first step. All alchemists would die. Still though, this was unlike any alchemy he had ever seen. Even more complex than the cursed marks on his arm. Leaning down, the scarred man pulled the book the dead man grasped and held it in his hands. It was bloodstained now, but he could see it wasn’t the first time the pages knew of the red liquid. He read the words. Some kind of prayer? A chant? He mouthed them, unconsciously remembering his time as a monk. He mouthed the words:

“From the Seventh Heaven, attended to by three greet words of power,

Come forth from the ring of restraints, Protector of the Holy Balance!”

The circle began to glow and the scarred man dropped the book, recoiling back from it. In the blink of an eye, strips of mist, no cloth the color of mist streamed out of the circle dancing madly. And at their center, a small figure, wrapped in mist like a cloak. Or wrapped in a cloak like the mist. “I ask of you…” She said, with a voice like sharpened silk, “Are you my master? 

* * *

 

“So...Are we sure those were the right words?” Ginny was the first to speak of course, ever the dry wit. Harry shrugged, and Hermione merely ran her fingers through her hair.

The three of them were in the attic, leaving Ron downstairs to look after the children. He had laughed and said he’d leave all the complicated wizardry to his wife and happily manned the toys and juice. Any gathering of the Potters and Weasleys was bound to be chaotic and Hermione had kissed him on the cheek for taking the hard job. As for Hermione, her enthusiasm for exploring a new branch of magic had quickly turned to frustration as they tried to reconcile it with her own knowledge. But they had made the circle and done the chanting regardless to no result. The sword of Gryffindor lay on the floor awkwardly. No dramatic flashing or spellwork. Just nothing.

“So what now?” Harry asked, watching Hermione flip through the book.

“Maybe it’s a pronunciation issue? Did we fill it the wrong number of times? Oh this is so…!” Hermione replied, growing increasingly flustered.

“Um...Harry love?” Ginny said, suddenly gobsmacked, “Does the sword of Gryffindor tend to float?”

Harry and Hermione stopped and stared. The sword of Gryffindor was floating, rotating in the air hilt up. Above it a hole in the air opened, mirroring the shape of the circle below it. Then a hand reached from the void and grasped the sword, as the sword grew thicker, growing from a short-sword to a massive long blade with a teardrop hole on its hilt. The hand was followed by its owner a slim figure clad in blue, wearing a mask shaped like a butterfly.

“I ask of you,” he said, voice light but full of determination, “Are you my master?”

"I-uh-Yes?" Harry said nervously.

"Then I hope we can fight nobly and well sir." The young man said smoothly.

“You know,” Ginny broke in, “I don’t think that’s Godric Gryffindor.”


End file.
